


For My Heart It Lies Under Your Feet

by Allekha



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Dancing, Developing Relationship, F/M, First Kiss, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-02 17:10:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21165197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allekha/pseuds/Allekha
Summary: Byleth picks Dimitri as the house representative for the White Heron Cup, discovers the joy of dancing with him, and tries to understand why he would joke about a promise she thinks he wants to keep.





	For My Heart It Lies Under Your Feet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pleurer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pleurer/gifts).

> Happy Halloween!

Growing up with the mercenaries had, it turned out, left Byleth wanting in some areas of knowledge, but there was one thing she had learned extremely well from her years with them: strategy. Under her father's leadership, she had learned not only how to use a sword and survive a battle, but how to make sure a whole battalion's swords met the enemy at an advantage so that as many of them as possible would make it through.

This morning, however, pacing the central gardens of the monastery in the dim light of the approaching dawn, Byleth was not applying her skills in strategy to battle. As she walked from one hedge to the next, alone in the frosty late-year air at this early hour, she was applying it to the challenge of the upcoming White Heron Cup.

First, an assessment of the problem: there were three qualities her house's competitor needed. The most important was charm, to attract the attention of the judges. Almost as important was an ability to dance, which not all of her students had talent or training in. And ideally, she would pick someone who actually _wanted_ to be in the competition, though she didn't think it was necessary if things came down to it. The Blue Lions were good at rising to challenges. Even Bernadetta might manage to hold back her tears if she was chosen; even Felix would step onto the stage if Byleth asked him to, though he would do so grumbling about her choice.

Second, the potential solutions: all of the students in her house. She was teaching quite a few more students now than she had been eight months ago. While that made her life busier and her classes more hectic, Byleth had found that she didn't mind at all. She liked her students, and it was an interesting challenge to make sure everyone was engaged. They all had their own strengths, and she could apply a degree of strategy to class time as well – she enjoyed making sure that everyone had something to do and that groups were balanced when she split the class for exercises.

She cycled through each of her students in her mind. Thankfully for Bernadetta and Felix, they weren't that charming, at least not in the way that was necessary for something like a dance competition. Annette was very cute, but on the other hand, she was also clumsy. Linhardt would probably just fall asleep and miss the competition. Mercedes was lovely and got along well with people, but while she had an elegant style, she wasn't physically skilled. Flayn was adorable and had already expressed excitement at the idea of competing, and Sylvain seemed to be popular with girls for a reason; she could ask them if they knew how to dance. Surely Sylvain had learned at one point. Didn't nobles learn how to dance?

There was also a third thing to consider: the enemies' strategies. Or in this case, who the other two Houses might choose as their representatives. Byleth could make guesses at who might be chosen; she didn't think she would need to, but if she had too many options, she could contemplate who would stand out as different when placed against them.

There was already one option she kept coming back to, though, her mind circling back to one particular student as she tread circles into the grass. Dimitri, she thought she remembered, had already learned how to dance. And he was very charming. Back when the three lords had first met her, when all three had been begging for her allegiance two minutes after their first experience in battle with her, there was something that had made her pick him.

Not because there was anything wrong with Claude or Edelgard. Not because she had simply been curious about the pain and darkness she sensed somewhere in him. Perhaps it had been the way he had spoken, or perhaps it had been the pretty blue color of his eyes. Whatever the case, there was still something about him that drew her gaze and her attention. Hopefully, he would drew the eyes of the judges as well.

Of course, Dimitri didn't want to be the dancer. He had begged her not to pick him. But that seemed to be only because he thought he would lose, and thus let down the entire house. Byleth thought he could win. If she could convince him of that, he wouldn't have any reason to object. And he would agree either way.

Byleth's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps on the path beyond the garden. The world had lightened considerably while she had been pacing and thinking, and judging by the first breaking light of the sunrise toward the east, it was time for the students with early chores to start their days. The monastery would be waking up in earnest now.

Now that she had reached some conclusions, perhaps she should find herself something more useful to do. Or at least some breakfast. She was hungry.

After helping the kitchen staff by fetching firewood for them and stealing some eggs and toast for herself, Byleth walked back to her room to review notes for today's class. More students were waking up now, some rubbing at their eyes as they stumbled along the path, others shivering underneath their coats. She nodded at a couple of her own students as she passed them, before she spotted Dimitri.

He didn't look sleepy, and he wasn't shivering, either. She could see sweat on his brow – he was on his way back from an early training session, then. It only took a moment for him to see her as well, and something about him brightened.

"Professor! Good morning."

The mercenaries had used to tease her, on nights when they were full of cheer and warm food, about how she never smiled for anything. Byleth didn't think she ever had smiled back then, not really. The way she could feel the muscles in her face turning up her lips was still strange sometimes, but her students were making her smile more the closer she became with them. Dimitri's presence made her smile now, though there was nothing special about his appearance or his greeting this morning.

She wanted to ask him about dancing. But there would hardly be time for that and also for him to eat before class. They could speak of it later. So instead she asked if he had eaten yet, and after fetching her notes, accompanied him back to the dining hall for another breakfast. (She was still hungry, anyway.)

It didn't take long at all for their table in the dining hall to be filled. Ingrid and Ashe were talking about a new knight story they were both reading, though by the sound of it, the story hadn't lived up to their expectations. Mercedes and Annette had seemingly gotten past whatever argument they'd had recently, as they spoke in high, excited voices about their plans for shopping during the upcoming weekend. While Felix and Dimitri's conversation was more strained, they found some common ground in talking about their training.

Eating with the students was better than eating alone. Especially when she was eating with _her_ students. She liked watching Annette's eyes sparkle, liked seeing Dedue carefully consume his meal while he thought about how it tasted, liked listening to them talk and laugh.

Byleth never had much to say during the meals together unless there was an upcoming mission to discuss. But there was plenty enough to soak in, and she found herself feeling warmed by more than the food every time.

Dimitri caught her gaze when Felix turned back to the sauteed poultry on his plate, and he smiled at her. It felt like a little moment just for the two of them, despite how they were surrounded. But was anybody else watching Dimitri smile at her for no reason? Did anyone else see it when the muscle at the corner of her mouth pulled?

Dimitri did; he smiled more, then got distracted when Ashe asked him something. But the moment had been a nice one, and Byleth could still feel her smile as she turned back to her notes.

~!~

An opportunity came that weekend, when the students had their day free of chores. Byleth went fishing for a while, sitting in the weak sun with Flayn and Seteth and catching more fish than both of them combined, then weeded the flowers in the greenhouse with Dedue in a settled silence. After that, though, she felt like conversing.

With the mercenaries, she had rarely felt like talking. Only occasionally, with her father. When she needed to discuss things, certainly she had spoken, but there had never been much of an urge to open her mouth just to say something.

She now found that she liked talking with the students and the other instructors. Sometimes they said funny things, and sometimes upsetting ones that put a strange pressure in chest and made her want to bring them more gifts to cheer them up, and sometimes they needed her help. People were always losing things here, and everyone had hidden pains.

Today, she found Dimitri in the knight's quarters, studying, with Dedue (as he so often was) at his shoulder. Both of them looked up as she approached; even Dedue's face softened into something friendlier at seeing her, though he didn't smile as he sometimes did while cooking.

She looked at their books, and Dimitri answered the unspoken question. "It's nothing important, Professor. Did you need anything?"

"Would you like to have tea?"

He brightened. "Of course."

She let him have a moment to finish up whatever he was doing with Dedue, and then they stepped outside. Usually, she took students to tea in the gardens, but the sun had now been covered with clouds, and a few snowflakes were blowing in on the wind. Dimitri would probably be fine in this weather, given where he had grown up, but she was happier to retreat back to the warmth of her room, where there was a table dragged over to the window to take in what light there was.

Chamomile was not her favorite kind of tea. But Dimitri's whole body relaxed just from breathing in the scent of it. She copied him and tried to do the same, letting the tension of a week of hard work, training and lessons and late nights squinting at books, flow out and disappear. Work and effort were important, but so were moments of peace.

The tea was a pleasant golden yellow in the cups, lit by the soft light from the window, and for a few moments they enjoyed it in a warm silence, before they started chatting. Byleth enjoyed these tea times, enjoyed seeing the students talk about what interested them, getting to know them and learning a new intimacy with them; words came easier to her now than they had a year ago, as they talked about the seasonal changes around the monastery.

"Everyone is getting so excited about the ball," said Dimitri. "It seems like every day someone has started making decorations, or is working on new clothes to wear to it."

Byleth nodded; last weekend, she had bought some pretty trim for Mercedes to sew onto a dress, and shining silk embroidery thread for Dedue and Bernadetta. No doubt Hilda and Dorothea were busy thinking of what elegant accessories to wear, too. It was making Byleth wonder if she should dress up for the event, though she had no idea what new thing she would wear.

"And dancing," she said. "Even those not in the Cup."

"Yes, that as well. I heard Manuela and Hanneman will be holding a lesson soon, so that everybody can brush up. I'm sure everyone will want to make a good impression, or at least to enjoy themselves without stepping on their partner's toes."

It occurred to her that she couldn't remember ever dancing herself. "Is it fun?" she asked.

Dimitri frowned in confusion. "Dancing?" When she nodded, he said, "Yes, it is. It's strange, at first, but once you understand the movements, and how they work with the music, it is pleasant. A bit like singing in the choir – sometimes difficult to harmonize, but enjoyable when you manage to move with each other. Have you never learned, Professor?"

She shook her head. She didn't think so. And here was an opportunity both to learn and to see Dimitri's dancing; she stood up and extended a hand.

"I don't know if I'd be the best teacher," said Dimitri, but when she kept her hand extended, he took it and let her lead him into the middle of the room. He told her where to put her hands; his touch on her was gentle, hesitant. Perhaps he was afraid of hurting her with all that strength. "Let's start with a waltz. Do you know the beat?"

"Beat?" She didn't know anything about music.

"This would be so much easier with music... we always had music in our lessons. Well, when you listen to a waltz, you can count one-two-three along the music. That is the beat. When you dance, you dance according to it. The steps go like this...."

It was true that Dimitri wasn't a natural teacher. But he was a good dancer; even after she had figured out the beginner steps, he moved with far more fluidity than her. She didn't think of Dimitri as graceful very often, but he had an element of it. It wasn't just that he was more confident in the steps.

And he was right: once she had learned how to do it, it was pleasant to drift around her room together, Dimitri counting. When she no longer felt the need to look at their feet, she looked at his face. He was enjoying himself, too; his expression was relaxed, like it always was during their tea times, and he met her gaze with his own.

"There," he said eventually, letting her go at the end of a one-two-three. "I think you've got the hang of it. You're a fast learner, even with a teacher like me."

"You're not a terrible teacher," she said. "But not practiced." And teaching was difficult; her first week of classes had been... well. Not great. She'd asked for help from her father and the other instructors and had done her best to learn quickly. "You're good at dancing."

"I'm not, really, but thank you," he said, smiling at her as they sat back down to their cooled tea. "My stepmother was much better than I am. But she was also happy that I'd learned even a little. There are often parties around midwinter in Faerghus, and sometimes I could catch her smiling at me and my partner when I danced with the other young guests. Of course, as soon as I knew I had her attention, I seemed to be five times as likely to trip over my feet."

Byleth felt something light in her throat, something that made her smile back to him. "Like when you've been doing so well with a new sword exercise, and you drop your weapon only when your teacher looks." That had happened in class earlier this week – Dimitri had been winning the practice bout against Felix easily, until he'd fumbled his lance as soon as Byleth had come over to watch. Felix hasn't hesitated to take advantage.

He gave her a sheepish look. "Yes, precisely. I do not understand why sometimes an instructor's presence makes it easier to work hard, and sometimes makes it easier to make mistakes."

Now _there _was a mystery. Byleth contemplated it as she refilled their teacups and nudged the plate of sweets towards Dimitri until he took one. (She _could_ eat all of them, but she probably shouldn't.)

"I should be going," he said when the sun started to dip in the sky. "Mercedes wanted to give me another sewing lesson."

"Do you need trim for your cloak?" she asked.

"I'm not quite at that level yet! She still has me sewing torn curtains. But I don't break the needles as often now."

She nodded, pleased; sewing wasn't a skill she used often, but when it was needed, there was no substitute. If their tents grew holes during a mission, someone had to patch them. "I'll pack the cookies for her," she said.

It took some rummaging to find an appropriate basket to stack the leftover sweets in. Dimitri took it from her slowly, his grip hesitant again as his gloved fingers brushed against her hands. "Thank you, I'm sure she'll enjoy them." He resettled the basket against his chest. "By the way, Professor... may I ask if you've chosen a representative for the White Heron Cup yet? I believe Mercedes said that she was happy to volunteer. If you haven't found anyone yet, I'm sure she would enjoy it."

Byleth nodded. "I have." She let him wait for a moment before reaching out to tap his shoulder. "Dimitri."

It took a moment for him to realize what she meant, his expression confused before his face crumpled. "But – I – _Professor_! You would choose me even after seeing how I dance? Do you wish for us to lose?"

"Yes and no," she said. "You won't lose."

"There truly is nobody more suitable in our house?"

She blinked at him, slow, and tilted her head. "You won't do it?"

That flustered him in an amusing way. "Of course I will be the representative, if you ask me," he said, his cheeks pink. "I...." He drew himself up. "I do not understand why it should be me, but I will do my best to prepare and make our house proud."

She nodded, pleased. Sylvain had turned out to not really know how to dance; Flayn had been adorable, but more enthusiasm than refinement. Dimitri was the best choice, and he would do well. She was sure of it.

~!~

"You chose _him_?" Felix hissed as the representatives entered the stage.

"Why not? He knows what he's doing," Sylvain whispered back. He'd come to the group lesson both to learn and to flirt; he must have seen Dimitri moving through the pattern with a grim look on his face. "And he may not be as handsome as _me_, but that's still a pretty face for the judges, don't you think?"

Byleth sent them both a cool look to let them know to be quiet. The main part of the competition wasn't going to last very long, anyway.

Most of the house cheered Dimitri on as the competitors took their positions – Dedue, standing next to Byleth near the wall, didn't, but he had a faint smile on. Byleth was sure that, like herself, he was willing him on in his heart.

Despite Dimitri's previous reluctance, he looked at ease and calm now, standing straight and proper between Ferdinand and Hilda. The musicians started to play, and the three of them started to dance, swaying to the tune, turning and smiling, all of them with their own touches to the movements. Hilda had the biggest grin on her face, clearly enjoying the attention; Ferdinand looked very confident of himself as he dipped and twirled; Dimitri smiled serenely toward the audience, his blue eyes focused on Byleth, then the judges, then someone else in the crowd.

Ferdinand and Hilda had been good choices, but after a few moments, Byleth nodded to herself. She was sure that her strategy had worked, and with that she let herself simply enjoy all three of the dancers until Alois called for them to stop.

Dimitri's face when he was declared the winner was priceless, and Byleth could barely hear him murmuring to himself in shock over the excited shouts from the other Blue Lions.

Dedue lead the way in cooking their meal that night, and it was the best food Byleth had tasted all month. "Dedue, this is too much," Dimitri said, looking over their meal with wide eyes.

"We helped!" Annette chimed in. Byleth could tell; whenever she and Mercedes made Faerghus buns, they shaped them differently than the other students did. "Ahhh, this all looks so good!"

There was stew with fish and just the right amount of cheese not to overwhelm it, vegetables roasted with something sweet-smelling, and a lot of dessert. There was something to light up everyone's eyes somewhere around the table, and Byleth had to try some of everything. The savory stew with spices, the vegetables that were perfectly crunchy, the subtle sweetness of the buns, and the richness of the cream mixed with the peaches.

"My, my, Dedue, you've outdone yourself tonight," said Mercedes, admiring her colorful plate as she picked up her fork.

Linhardt had gone straight to the desserts. "I concur," he said. "If we always ate this well, I might just study in the dining hall."

Dimitri, sitting next to her, didn't put away his food as quickly as Byleth did – she was always so hungry – but he did eat with enthusiasm, sometimes pausing to gaze around at the happy, chatting table. "I'm sorry for doubting you, Professor," he said at one point, his voice low and meant just for the two of them. "I should have believed you about my abilities."

"Even so," she said, scraping cream off her plate with her fork before looking up to him, "you agreed."

"I have never had reason to doubt your decisions," he said. "Because of your guidance, we've all discovered new talents, or refinement to our talents, found new friends, survived our battles... I could hardly refuse a request like that. You must have had your reasons, so I agreed."

She couldn't seem to look away from his gaze, his smile going up to his eyes. "You should not follow any leader blindly," she chided softly. "But thank you."

"I know," he said. "But we are all loyal to you because of what we've seen and heard ourselves. Not simply because you are our teacher."

She nodded, and when Dimitri looked over the table again, so did she. Annette, so hardworking, was talking over a book with Linhardt, who was sharper than he seemed; Mercedes, stronger than her gentle expressions suggested, was asking Dedue, who was more than Dimitri's bodyguard, about how he'd done something with the food. There was something between all of these students and herself that hadn't quite been there with the mercenaries, though they had followed her loyally, too. She couldn't explain it.

In a few months, she was supposed to watch them graduate and follow paths into their new lives. Dimitri as king. Ingrid and Ashe, perhaps, as knights. Sylvain as – she hoped not an unhappily married man. Leaving the mercenaries had been one thing. She wasn't so sure she wanted to leave this group.

That was what it meant to be a teacher, perhaps. Maybe she was still learning how to be one. Or perhaps....

Well. That was something to think about another time. "Dimitri," she said, "when you've finished the dancer training, can you show me?"

"Of course, Professor."

"It would be good to discuss in our strategy class." She crunched on a carrot and considered. There weren't many trained magic dancers, although she had encountered a few in her time. They didn't have much time left this month, either; they would be on a mission again very soon.

"I'm afraid I may not be very good at it at first. I've never been one for magic. Always physical strength."

"I'll teach you," she said. "It wasn't easy for me."

"Really?" Dimitri's brows drew together. "You always seem to know how to do any skill related to combat, and your healing spells are almost as good as Mercedes's." After a moment, he turned considering. "I suppose even the teachers must have learned at one point. And someday, some of us students may become instructors."

Byleth propped her chin on her hand and looked around again. "Many of you already are," she observed. Felix had apparently been trying to get Bernadetta to teach him some kind of secret technique that even Byleth didn't know about; Dedue, she knew, taught several other students about cooking on the weekends. Dimitri had once told her over tea that Sylvain had even tried to teach him how to ask out girls, though from the vagueness of the story, she gathered that it hadn't gone so well.

She reached over to spoon more of the saghert and cream onto her plate, and her leg bumped against Dimitri's under the table. It started, then stilled as she served herself more dessert, his body warm and solid against her weight.

~!~

It wasn't unusual for students to show up at her door – full of questions, asking her to come to dinner, seeking advice on their weapon form. She didn't always say yes, since she had quickly learned that she couldn't keep up with so many students wanting her attention if she did.

This evening, however, Dimitri asked to come in, and _that_ was a rare request coming from someone who wasn't Bernadetta. Usually, it didn't bode well, but Dimitri didn't look upset. Byleth stepped aside and let him in from the chill, curious. There was something different about his form under his cloak today, and as he took it off, she could see that his armor was new. Ah.

"It looks comfortable," she said, tilting her head. Maybe it helped with the magic somehow. Or the movements. It was odd to see his skin when Dimitri had worn long sleeves and gloves even during summer; she could see his calves, now. It wasn't just his upper body that was strong.

She was staring. She made herself stop.

"It will take some getting used to," Dimitri admitted, tugging at one of his hems. "I will try doing my lance drills in it later."

He had already mastered the dance magic, and though the dance itself was more amusing than anything, the sudden rush of energy left Byleth dizzy. The world span around her, then righted itself; it was like everything was in slow motion, from her own breathing to Dimitri's blinking eyes. She shook her head, confused at the sensation, and when it wore off, she went for her training sword.

Byleth's room was not large enough for anything like real practice – they would have to do this out in the training yard soon – but the next time Dimitri hit her with the spell, she was prepared. She whipped through a basic practice exercise in moments, everything moving twice as fast until the spell wore off. "We should have the whole class practice using it," she noted.

"It's an odd sensation, isn't it? The instructor kept showing me until I understood how to do it."

"It would be good if we could also teach you a basic healing spell, now that you can use magic," she noted, idly running through the same exercise again. It felt so slow now! "But this is very useful, Dimitri. I think it will be helpful."

When she looked over at Dimitri, he was practically glowing. "I'll be happy to do anything that will aid our class in battle," he said, all earnestness. She liked hearing him talk like that.

In truth, he was already one of her most useful students. So strong. She was nervous for him after what had happened in Remire last month, though. Knowing that he had his own suffering was one thing; seeing Dimitri's face twist with pain and anger, hearing his voice go dark with it, had been something else.

Certainly she'd seen people overcome with rage in search of revenge before. But it was so odd to see something like that on Dimitri, given how kind and polite he normally was. Odd, and it hurt.

In any case. That was something to work on another time. She gestured for him to show her the spell again.

After a few more rounds of the spell, she thought she was completely used to it, and could move smoothly through both the beginning and the end of the spell without faltering. She was already thinking of how an ability like this could be applied to battle, of the discussions her class would have about it.

"Is it only this one dance?" she asked.

Dimitri frowned. "I was only taught the one dance," he said. "I'm not sure."

She put her sword down on the bed and put her arms up, imitating his one-person waltz for a few steps. Dimitri smiled and tried it, but nothing happened except for a lightening of the atmosphere when he laughed at the nothing happening. A shame.

It had already been a long day for them both. They could stand a break. "Tea?"

Mercedes and Annette had made more of the Faerghus buns; Dimitri took several of them when she offered him the basket. "Thank you. You spoil us all the time."

She did. But that was because she liked them so much. She wanted to do nice things for them; she wanted Mercedes to have a pretty dress for the ball and for Felix to have good swords to practice with and for Dimitri to smile. "They're you're favorite," she said, taking one for herself while the kettle heated.

"They remind me of my childhood," he said. He sat down across from her, some of the metal danglies on his new armor clinking together as he did so. It looked sillier now that he was sitting still, and he fidgeted with it for a few seconds. "Do you have any foods like that?"

Byleth put her hand on her cheek and thought. She couldn't remember most of her childhood; vague flashes, here and there, mostly of her father. None of them had much to do with food. She shook her head, then paused and pointed to the buns.

"These?"

"Not childhood," she said. "But I eat them with everyone here. So they remind me of that." Annette and Mercedes, Ashe and Ingrid, Dedue. Lysithea. Linhardt. Bernadetta. Anyone who enjoyed the occasional sweet. Even Felix had once agreed to try a spicy variation that Dedue had tried. Dimitri too, of course; he enjoyed them so much.

Dimitri's face softened, and he stopped fiddling with his clothes. Byleth put the chamomile in to steep, and they talked softly. Mostly it was Dimitri who talked, about his dancer training.

Something he said gave her an idea, and more than that, an urge. She stood and came around the little wooden table, reaching out her hand. "Does it work if we dance together?" she asked.

"Oh," said Dimitri. He stared at her fingers. "I have no idea."

After a moment, his fingers closed very gently over hers. Something about this bothered her, before she realized: "Your gloves don't match," she said as he stood. They looked weird with the style of the armor.

"I wore my regular ones," he said. She did wonder, sometimes, why he wore them everywhere. He couldn't be cold _all_ the time. She tugged on the hem of one. "Must I?"

She gave him a look. It wasn't cold enough in her room for gloves, and they didn't match the armor. He sighed and touched the hem of one, hesitating, before he gained his conviction and peeled both of them off.

Touching his hand felt different without them, as they set themselves up in the middle of the room. It was difficult to tell with the dim candles burning and the daylight fading outside, but she thought his cheeks might be going pink, and he was looking at their joined hands, not at her face. His skin was slightly damp with sweat, hot.

His hand, his shoulder. She touched her students more than that every week, sometimes on their skin when the weather had been warm, when she corrected their weapon handling and stances. But she hadn't touched Dimitri without something in the way. Couldn't remember seeing him without the gloves. Why did it feel so much more intimate than the last time they had danced?

"One, two, three," she murmured, and they danced. At first, Dimitri was tense, but they got into a rhythm, and he relaxed again. She could feel the pressure of his movements more without his gloves on.

Around and around they turned, and then she began to remember the flourishes she'd seen the students in the lesson and at the contest putting in, the extra turns and twirls. Hadn't she seen something like that, once? At a festival in a town she'd passed through one year, with the other mercenaries? The memory was blurry.

She went with it anyway, letting go of Dimitri's shoulder for an extra step back to add a twirl. "What—" Dimitri started to say, but he caught on quickly and caught her waist in time for the next step. "Where did that come from?" he asked, laughing.

Byleth shrugged. Somewhere. Somewhere that felt warm and bubbly dancing like this. On another _three_, she tugged their joined hands upwards until Dimitri twirled, too, the danglies flaring out.

She was having fun. She liked dancing, she decided. Another new thing that she'd learned about herself here, learned from Dimitri.

The new moves, put in without words, added an element of spontaneity. It made Byleth wish they had music to go with them, so she could find out what that was like. The two of them matched well without it anyway; for another couple of minutes, they waltzed around with no problems or stumbles despite the added flairs.

When they came to a halt, both of them were breathing harder. "That was fun," Dimitri said. "I've never danced like that before."

She nodded; she found herself hoping there would be an opportunity to do that again some time. Only students were supposed to dance at the ball, apparently, so it would have to wait.

For a moment longer, their hands lingered, before they stepped apart and returned to the table. His bare calf brushed up against her leg as they tried to arrange their legs under the small surface, and she could almost feel his skin with just her tights between them before he shifted away.

Dimitri didn't put his gloves back on. Byleth watched his hands as he took his first sip, as he started to tell her about a new sword Felix had bought. He'd broken cups a couple of times before, and he usually handled them gingerly, but today, he cradled the tea cup between both hands, holding it like anyone else seeking the warmth on a chilly day.

~!~

_I may not even have a future to promise to someone._

Dimitri, who was meant to be king. Dimitri, who found time to teach swordplay to orphans despite his busy schedule. Dimitri, who had sworn revenge for his family. Dimitri, who wanted to see everyone again in five years. Dimitri, who had just asked her....

Byleth's chest ached, and they were both quiet as they walked back from the tower, toward the brightly lit windows where the ball was still ongoing. "I might retire for the night," Dimitri admitted.

When she nodded in agreement, he gave her a surprised look. "Let's walk back together," she suggested.

"Are you certain? As I said, I do not wish to keep too much of your company."

"It's not too much," she said. "They've had me all evening."

The celebration spilled out the doors; students laughed and drank together among the bushes and grass, some of them dancing in the quieter space, others cuddled up in this corner or that. They skirted the edges of it all, their boots tapping along the dark pavement.

It had been a long night. It was good that Byleth had practiced dancing with Dimitri; first Claude had taken her hand, inviting her out to the dance floor when she was supposed to watch, and then Annette wanted a turn, and then the stream of students hadn't seemed to end. Mercedes, her dress looking lovelier with the new ribbon sewn onto it, Hilda with lace and beads in her hair, Sylvain winking and more confident than he'd been at the dance lesson. She had taken Dedue out for one turn – he was so tall that it was awkward at first – and then been swamped by even more students whose names she didn't know.

There had hardly been time to breathe, or to carry out her actual duties at the ball. Checking on Bernadetta where she'd wedged herself in the corner behind some large vases (Alois had been telling stories with her). Making sure Sylvain was being a gentleman (all the woman he'd danced with had seemed happy enough, and nobody had slapped him). Keeping an eye on the drinking going on to make sure the students didn't overindulge, though she could hardly stop Manuela.

Somewhere she couldn't see, Sothis yawned and made a sleepy murmuring sound. She hadn't even had to do any of the dancing.

Dimitri's eyes followed one of the couples turning on the lawn. "I think you must have danced with everyone in there," he said. "You're very popular. For a good reason, you know."

"Not everyone," she said as they rounded a corner, heading back towards the dorms.

"No? I suppose there are only so many dances one could have in a few hours. Still, I think there was someone different each time I happened to see you. Was Annette really leading?"

"She tried." And had almost sent them crashing into another pair when she'd stumbled straight into Byleth after messing up one of the steps. But even still, Annette had been giggly and excited, trying her best even when she didn't do it perfectly the first time. Byleth had enjoyed it. The attention and exercise hadn't started to wear on her until later in the evening.

"And even Dedue got a dance with you."

"I asked him. He was a little stiff, but also very steady."

"I saw him with Mercedes later on. It was good to see him have a chance to relax for a bit, instead of having to watch me all night."

Byleth nodded. While Dedue seemed happy being Dimitri's self-appointed bodyguard, as far as she could tell, and while it was good for Dimitri to have a loyal retainer, especially given that he had no family left, she was also happy to see Dedue making friends with the other students in his house. It seemed healthy. Byleth knew what it was like to live with few connections and a narrow focus, and she didn't prefer it to the new way she was discovering, as confusing as it was at times.

Could Dimitri not even promise his future to Dedue? Would Dedue let Dimitri drive himself into the ground in the pursuit of his family's revenge? Byleth felt herself frown, the muscles different from those that made smiles.

The area near the dorms was silent – nobody else seemed to be heading to bed right now – and the two of them came to a stop outside the door to Byleth's room. They stood there for a moment, looking at each other.

She didn't want to leave him just yet; there were too many questions and thoughts and feelings that she couldn't name knocking up against each other in her head.

"It's been a very exciting evening," Dimitri said.

Byleth nodded, but before he could finish saying good-night, grabbed the handle of her door, having come up with an excuse to keep him a little longer. "Very exciting," she echoed. "Do you need to relax before going to sleep? I still have chamomile."

"Tea time at this hour? And so soon after the last time? You indulge me too much, Professor. The other students will get jealous – but of course, I could never refuse."

He followed close behind as she unlocked the door. Both of them took off their boots – Byleth sighed as she did so, relieving some of the ache in her feet – before she groped around for the candles. She rarely had reason to have anyone else in her room at this time of night, and seeing another face in the flickering light in the close quarters felt intimate.

There wasn't much chamomile left – she hadn't bought tea in a while – but there was enough for a pot. Sitting across from Dimitri, she stared idly at the kettle, waiting for the water to boil, this thought and that going through her head.

Strategy was not going to help her here. This was not a battle. This was – well, an interaction. A relationship. Byleth didn't have as much experience with people at the personal level rather than in combat, though she'd discovered at the monastery that listening went a long way to it, and she was good at that.

"Is something—" Dimitri's voice pulled her out of her head, and he looked guilty when she glanced over at him. "I'm sorry – is something the matter? You seem quite lost in thought." Usually, Dimitri was patient when she needed a moment to collect her answer, but this time, he prompted her: "Is it about our next mission? The Flame Emperor?"

She shook her head. "You," she said.

"Me? I apologize if I've upset you. I – if this about the joke I made earlier, I—"

"It's not that," she said, then paused. "Well, a little about it." She frowned again and glanced down. Dimitri's hands were folded on the table, encased in his usual gloves. And his usual gauntlets. Even on a night like this, when he was supposed to be having fun. She looked back up. "You want to become a good king."

"Of course!"

"And you want to avenge your family."

"Yes."

She put a hand to her cheek. "But your future is too uncertain to make a promise?"

He was frowning now, too. "I have upset you." She inclined her head. Yes. She didn't like this turmoil and worry, cold and heavy inside of her. "Are you worried for me? It's not that I expect to die, or want to. But I do not know where the path to my vengeance will lead, or what I will be like when I find it, only that I will follow that path. I must, even if it means risking my life. And there are many things that worry me about Faerghus and its politics, as well. Of course, I will try my hardest to both accomplish my goals and to be of service to the people of my kingdom. It will not be easy, but... that is how it is."

"You are worrying me more," she said, and the corners of his mouth lifted.

"Here I am, making things worse even as I try to make them better." The kettle started to whistle; Byleth hurriedly went to take it off the heat and add the chamomile flowers. "But you can see why I shouldn't be making such promises, no matter how fun it feels in the moment."

She shook her head, then held up her hand to quiet him as she finished shaking the last of the chamomile into the pot to steep. When she sat down again, she reached for his hands, clenched on the table. Dimitri let her pull them apart and turn one over, touching the gauntlet. She didn't like seeing them on him, not here in her dark room with the scent of chamomile filling the space around them.

"Soldiers say they will come home when they leave their families," she said. "People in uncertain circumstances still promise themselves and their futures to each other as they marry. Perhaps everyone is being irresponsible and selfish. But I think they mean more than a promise. It's an expression of hope and closeness. I don't think it's irresponsible to say that you want to see everyone again in five years, and that you will try to be there and hope they will try, too." She shifted her fingers on the gauntlet. "Or to say that you wish you could stay with me. To say such a thing and then to immediately throw it away, as though you didn't want it, or don't have any hope it could happen...."

"But it can't happen, can it? Wherever I am after I graduate, you'll be here, teaching."

Byleth's eyebrows drew together. "Will I?" She hadn't thought that far ahead. "I suppose I might be. I like teaching. But I don't recall signing any multi-year contracts."

"Is that so?" Something flashed on Dimitri's face before he covered it with one of his polite smiles. "Either way, I shouldn't have said such a thing. Please, is there anything I can do to make up for worrying you on a night meant for joy and celebration?"

Byleth thought while she poured them both a cup of the chamomile and watched the steam rise and drift from the golden surface of the tea. "I never danced with you tonight," she said.

"No," said Dimitri. He stood and removed his gauntlets, then paused, looking at his hands, before slowly taking the gloves off, too. "May I?" He offered her his bare hand.

She took it, wrapping her fingers around his palm. Dimitri always wore his gloves – in class, at dinner, even while drinking tea. She was starting to suspect it might be to help keep him from breaking things so often, but she still wasn't sure, and she was glad that he had removed them for her. It meant something, she knew it.

He lead them into the center of the room, but she positioned them differently this time: his hand on her shoulder, hers on his waist.

"Is it your turn to lead?" Dimitri asked. His hand shifted to the side, trying to stay on the fabric of her coat.

She nodded and moved his hand firmly back into position. Dimitri flushed but left it there this time, his palm half on her skin. "One, two, three," she murmured, the beat familiar by now, and started to lead them.

They both moved cautiously at first, unused to the reversed roles of the dance, but Dimitri picked it up quickly. Byleth had danced with a lot of people in the past few hours, and Dimitri was one of the best among them, even with the initial hesitancy of the steps. He moved easily, didn't trip over himself or kick her in the shin, and he wasn't too tall for her.

Dimitri lifted their joined hands, and she broke her hold to twirl, her coat flaring out around her. He chuckled, which made her smile as they found their grip on each other again.

Leading was fun, too, and as they turned around the room, Byleth didn't think about her aching feet, or the continuing mystery of the Flame Emperor, or about the next class she had to teach. Only about moving her limbs, and the now-familiar beat of the dance, and how it felt to hold Dimitri.

And then Dimitri mixed up the steps, and their feet caught on each other, completely ruining their rhythm. He pulled them both across the carpet as he stumbled, trying to find his balance again. Byleth was too amused to be much help, and it must have showed, because Dimitri looked put-out when they finally caught themselves on the table, rattling the tea cups. "Don't laugh at me, please," he said.

"I'm not." She wasn't. She was only smiling.

One of Dimitri's calves was leaning against hers. She could feel it, strong. The warmth of his body radiated even through fabric. She looked down, then looked up at his face, which was also very close.

Byleth wanted something, she realized. Something she couldn't put into words, something that was deep in her chest. Sothis would have scolded her for not knowing were she not dozing at the moment, she was sure.

She let go of Dimitri's side, touched his cheek. Wanted. She wanted – Dimitri wasn't moving away. His eyes were wide and his breathing fast, but he didn't move.

The promise hadn't been a joke, she thought. Dimitri thought he couldn't ask for more of her time; he was trying so hard to be good, despite everything, his own pain and his own darkness. But he'd pledged his loyalty to her and he'd followed her and he'd danced with her and he wanted, too, didn't he.

Perhaps they shouldn't. But Byleth had never wanted something, someone in this way before, never felt the urge to touch as much as she did now, and it seemed cruel to deny them both.

It was a small movement to put their lips together. Dimitri's hand tightened on hers, then let go just as she moved her head to break the kiss. For a moment, she wondered if she'd read him wrong, read herself wrong.

"I," said Dimitri, his voice strained. Both of them, it seemed, didn't know what to say as they stared at each other. "Sorry, did I hurt you?" he blurted. "I – I didn't bruise you, did I?"

She shook her head. She could feel the heat in Dimitri's face; she could see his gaze flickering from one of her eyes to the other. He hadn't moved, though he was so tense she was surprised that he didn't spring away from her. The wood of the table creaked underneath his other hand.

"May I?" he asked in a parched whisper, and when she nodded, slight, he brushed their lips together again. It was the softest movement. For someone so strong, someone who kept breaking needles and swords, he could touch so delicately when he tried. "I apologize," he murmured. "I don't – I'm not sure what to do."

She blinked at him and tilted her head. "Sylvain didn't say?"

"He – he only advised me on talking! And I only said those things to that poor girl because he... no, he didn't."

Byleth nodded and straightened enough that she could stop supporting herself with her other hand and put both of them on his face. He closed his eyes at the touch, breath deepening again.

She didn't know much about this, either. Stories. Watching people. Not much in the way of real-world experience. She couldn't teach him this. But perhaps, this thing, this thing that made her skin tingle and her breath catch like nothing else ever had, they could learn together.

They abandoned the cooling cups of tea in favor of the bed. They sat on it, knees pressed together, and kissed again and again, slowly and then more quickly. Dimitri kept touching her hair, withdrawing his hand, touching it again, until she put her hand on top of his to keep it there. It had been a very long time since anyone had touched her hair, and she didn't mind when Dimitri accidentally tugged on it. The pain wasn't that bad; it was more like poking a bruise, except electric and better.

Eventually, she pulled away to shrug off her coat – too hot – and tugged him down to the blanket. The bed was narrow, only meant for one person, but if they lay on their sides and stayed close together, they could fit.

Dimitri gasped when she slid her hand up his tunic – she had seen his muscles, the results of all his hard work at training, and now they were real and firm under her fingertips. Her lips hurt, but she kissed him again anyway. It was wet, their kisses no longer neat and chaste but something messier, something more exciting.

His hands didn't stray as far as hers did. They stayed on her neck, her shoulders, going back to touch her hair and to brush it from her eyes. She grabbed one to kiss his palm, half-remembering something she must have seen. Dimitri started at the touch, nearly cracking his head into the wall.

"Careful," she said.

"I'm fine," he assured her, and when she kissed one of his knuckles, he didn't jerk, only breathed in. Neither of them had pretty hands; even with his gloves, Dimitri had worn calluses into his fingers. Byleth's were even rougher from years of work. Dimitri turned his hand over to take hers and kissed it anyway, the same as she'd done for him. "I remember thinking you were stronger than you looked," he told her. "When you rescued the three of us from those bandits, and you fought them with no trouble. With such easy command." His breath shuddered over her fingertips.

She smiled and used her other hand to wind her fingers into his hair, to tip his head back for a long kiss; Dimitri looped his arms around her and didn't seem eager to break it. When it was over, he tucked his head against her neck.

Byleth rubbed his back, and when it was clear that Dimitri didn't seem to want to leave, she pulled at his shoulder. "Let me put out the candles."

He started to follow as she sat up. "Should I...?"

She smiled and nudged him back down to the covers. If he wanted to stay, he could stay.

Byleth put out the lights, then belatedly realized that perhaps she would like to sleep in something more comfortable than her clothes. She found her chest-of-drawers in the dark and changed in the dark.

The room still smelled of the tea they had never drank. Perhaps it could stand reheating tomorrow. Tomorrow, Byleth thought as she pulled her nightgown over her head, would be slow. But as tired as most of the students would be from the ball, they would still have to work. Class might be difficult.

She found her way back to the bed by touch; Dimitri caught her hand. "Careful, yourself," he said. She shifted one leg and found that she'd nearly run straight into the bed.

The blankets were still tucked in. "Covers," she prompted, tugging on his hand.

"Oh! Yes, of course." He got out of the way so that she could tug on the blankets until they came free, and they both slipped underneath.

Dimitri took her hand again once they'd settled down. He ran his thumb over the back of her hand, the touch surprisingly soft. When she turned her wrist a little, it was easy enough to find his pulse with her thumb; the way it beat against his skin was foreign to her. She could even feel it slowing down as they lay there. Could he hear it? Feel it? All the time?

"I..." Dimitri murmured. "Thank you." There was an awkward pause, and then his voice dropped even further: "Byleth."

She squeezed his hand. For someone who wanted his classmates to call their king by his name, he was usually so formal with her. It was nice to hear him use her name for once.

"Thank you, Dimitri," she murmured back, not entirely sure why they were thanking each other. Dimitri chuckled and shifted closer.

His pulse slowed further and further, and soon he was asleep. Byleth listened to him breathe, deep and even, his heart _thump-thump_ing away in his chest.

Wishes didn't come true just because they were wishes. Dimitri was right about that. But if the promise hadn't truly been a joke, perhaps it was one that they could keep. One where Byleth could help protect Dimitri as he pursued his revenge, and help him become the king that he wanted to be, and learn more new things from and with him.

She liked that idea.

Byleth wrapped her hand more snugly around Dimitri's and closed her eyes. First, though, she had to get through tomorrow, as quiet of a day as it would be, and the months that remained after, and for that she needed rest. Sleep didn't come right away, and she waited for it with Dimitri's heart beating steadily against her skin.


End file.
